


Foreshadow

by Edoraslass



Series: Under My Wing [52]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-23
Updated: 2014-12-23
Packaged: 2018-03-03 02:45:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2835221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Edoraslass/pseuds/Edoraslass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In Which There Is An Omen</p>
            </blockquote>





	Foreshadow

We were walking through the gardens, enjoying the coolness of early evening. Faramir was taking great joy in pointing out plants and giving them their Sindarin names, and he beamed with shy pride each time he found a plant that was unfamiliar to me. There were many of that variety; I had little herb-lore, except what was needed to keep a body healthy.   
  
"Nanny?" I heard him ask from behind me. I turned to see him standing still in the middle of the path, frowning at the sky. "Did you see that?"  
  
"Did I see what?" I replied, looking upwards.   
  
"I think I just saw lightning up there." He pointed towards the White Tower. "But it doesn't smell like rain. And…" he hesitated a moment, "it looked like it was coming from that window. So it couldn't have been lightning."  
  
I looked where he pointed, and saw nothing out of the ordinary. "Perhaps it was someone merely lighting a lantern for the night?" I suggested, trying to ignore the way his preoccupied expression raised the hairs on the back of my neck.   
  
"Maybe," he said doubtfully. "But it was brighter than a lantern."  
  
I did not know what to tell him, for I had no idea what he might have seen. I did know that he seemed to be pointing to the window in a room that had not been used until the Lady Finduilas had died. Now, however, Lord Denethor often retreated to that room at the end of the day. "I do not know what it might have been," I said, "but I think we should go in now. It is almost time for supper."  
  
He did not argue, but took my hand as we turned to leave the gardens. He cast one puzzled glance over his shoulder as we walked, but did not bring the subject up again that night.   
  
And if I saw a strange flash from the corner of my eye, I did not dwell on its source.

 

 

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